


Abide With Me

by Nedrika



Category: The Full Monty (1997)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Character Death, Dialect, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Missing Scene, Period-Typical Homophobia, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nedrika/pseuds/Nedrika
Summary: Lomper, Guy and the little moments.
Relationships: Lomper/Guy, The Male Strippers
Comments: 20
Kudos: 31
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merle_p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merle_p/gifts).



> I can't believe there's nothing for these dudes on here, so let's fix this.
> 
> I can barely write my own dialect, and while I've tried to replicate Sheffield to the best of my ability it may require some imagination

"Shit."

Lomper slid down the door of his bedroom and slid his hands through his hair.

It had all been a laugh when it was just Gaz pulling ridiculous moves in the light of the booth and almost setting himself on fire, but the audition had made it real. They were going to do it; strip in front of a whole hall full of people - women. Hundreds of women there to see a stud, and getting lanky Lomper in a Speedo instead. Dancing. Jesus Christ.

And speaking of studs.

He was the best thing the group could have asked for, and his own nightmare; the last thing he needed was a distraction while he was prancing around up there where there would be no hiding if he did get...distracted. Even worse if anything happened in rehearsals, where there wouldn't even be a lass around he could pin it on.

"Fuckin' 'ell," he whispered, head dropping into his palms.

He'd been on the up since that morning Dave had grabbed him out of his car to chuck him back in it, and he couldn't go messing it up now. It would be worse now, to go back to only being him and his mum, and he couldn't try and leave her again. No, this was his chance. He was going to take it as it came, have fun and not worry about what wasn't going to happen.

Be cool, Lomper. Be cool.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, shit," he said, staring at the cracking paint of his ceiling.

Lomper wasn't the most imaginative, but he'd never have guessed that the best buggering of his life would have been brought about by fleeing his job in a g-string, being chased through all his neighbours' laundry and then breaking into his own house. If he had he'd have made himself a millionaire on last week's rollover while he was at it.

"That bad, eh?" Guy murmured beside him, a sleepy smile slurring his words.

"I'm going t'need mum's stick to get t'club."

He flopped on his side.

"I've not got saggy tits, 'ave I?"

"You've got perfect tits," Guy said, giving them a once over, and then a grope. "Perky," he added with a kiss to the left nipple, the one that meant the least movement.

His heart thumped at the sight. He had thought Guy seeking him out to chat had been in his head, on account of his loneliness and them being the only two strangers the same age in the group, but here he was in bed with a guy, with Guy, with Guy who wanted to meet his mum.

"Bloody 'ell, mum!" he yelped, sitting up fast enough Guy almost got a shoulder to the nose.

"Sorry?"

There wasn't much in his house that would fit Guy, but after wading through his drawers he managed to find enough to at least keep him decent.

"She'll've wondered where I was, I should've put the oven on for tea by now. C'mon, put these on and I'll go, uh, tell 'er yer 'ere."

"Ooh," Guy cooed, but he was already dressed and out the door.

He almost tripped on his own feet getting down the stairs, pulling himself round the banister hard enough that it jarred his shoulder. He screamed to a stop in the kitchen door frame, his grip so tight on the wood his bitten down nails chipped the paint.

A slim, blue wrist with a familiar dressing gown cuff peeked out from behind the tablecloth. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Shit, Lomps, you going t'be 'right?"

He barely registered the words. As soon as the door of the terrace closed behind them he was off towards the kettle, footsteps following behind him. He buried himself in cupboards and drawers, avoiding looking at the spot where they'd found her and leaning across the forbidden ground to tug the blinds shut. The tea wouldn't get any stronger no matter how long he mashed it, and it made frustration bubble under his skin. 

A quiet touch at his shoulder woke him up from wherever he'd gone while he was staring at his mother's teapot, and he turned to meet a worried look.

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Actually no, not yet," he replied, and turned back to sullenly stirring the milk through until it came out almost as pale. Hell, Guy took one sugar; his mother took two. He added a spoonful to his own unsweetened cup and handed it over, then took the cloying one himself.

"Thanks for askin'," Lomper smiled and leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, smiling when it was returned. "Cheers for everything, really. Yer a godsend."

Guy hid his smile in his teacup, badly.

It was every inch the truth. Guy had stayed by him as they waited for the ambulance, then through all the meetings with funeral directors, council officials, his mum's priest and lawyer the next day, shoulder pressed against his to keep him grounded. He wasn't sure how he would have done it without him there, especially since there had just been so much to do and get organised that he'd barely had time to grieve.

Now that it was over enough he could begin to process the grief that had been building for years, since the first bad GP visit. The service and wake had been people he knew rather than his mum's friends, which hurt as much as it was a comfort, but the fact that Guy had stuck around, even after, meant more than he could say.

He motioned for Guy to follow him and they trailed through to the living room, sagging into the faded sofa together. His mum's trinkets sat across from them, the little glazed animals dotted along the mantelpiece staring back. 

"Would she 'ave liked us? Yer mum, like," Guy asked, eyes similarly locked on the little deer and rabbits.

"She'd've loved you, she always had a soft spot for flirts," he smiled, and then sighed. "She didn't... that is, I never told 'er, but I think she'd figured it out. Never asked me about girls the last couple years, just said she wanted me 'appy."

"And was you?"

He shifted in his seat, watching the ripples in his cup.

"No, I weren't. Not for a long time, but not 'cause a that. Or at least, it weren't the most of it."

Guy turned to him, waiting, and he convinced himself to talk. Start and the rest would follow, eventually.

"I tried to off meself once, but I... it weren't a good plan. Chuffed it up right proper. Dave pulled us out, 's how I ended up in Gaz's stripper idea."

Guy was sitting very still, but his encouraging look was enough. 

"They wanted me 'round, even outside rehearsals. I spent so long sitting in 'works, or in 'works band, comin' home t'mum who was fading day t'day; it were new, were the dancing. Brought me out of the funk I'd been in since t'closure."

A hand slid into his own and held tight.

"I know what you mean, a bit."

He was surprised, but Guy was completely serious.

"Y'know I do them odd jobs? Like wit' Gerald's bathroom? It's been a good way t'get out t'house, but every invoice through the door feels like another bloody P45, and then its back t'job club. It tires you out, but wait long enough and they pop up again, right? It sorts 'self out."

He sighed and put his cold tea down on a side table.

"Yeah. I'm glad I buggered it that bad; if nothing else I'd've left mum 'ere by 'erself, waiting." 

He shivered, and Guy squeezed his knuckles. 

They sat together in quiet, Guy brushing his thumb over the back of Lomper's hand in soothing motions, the same way he had in the ambulance and after the interment, and he relaxed little by little into it.

"Right, I know what'll cheer you up. Make you laugh!" Guy crowed at last, bringing his hand slapping down on Lomper's thigh, who sat rubbing at it in confusion as Guy stood and rummaged around his backpack of overnight supplies. He emerged with a shout of triumph, holding up a VHS case covered in people in too-bright jackets, then rushed over to fiddle with the telly gubbins.

"I seen you 'ad a VCR when I were over yesterday, so I nabbed this when I were 'ome. It's _Singin' int'Rain!"_

"Oh," he said carefully as the screen warmed up and Guy bounced back, draping himself against the cushioned arm and pulling Lomper over to lie across him. He was positioned in just the right way that they both had bones in all the wrong places, and by the time they'd wriggled their way into being comfortable there was a bar fight going on and Guy had to whisper everything he'd missed into his ear. It tickled, and he almost wriggled out of his arms again. The dancing really was good, though.

"That Don's got an arse on him."

"Shut up!" Guy laughed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, leading to Lomper squirming in his lap, which meant Guy breathing hot over his neck.

In the end they had to rewind the tape when they were both too busy to catch Donald O'Connor walking up a wall.


	4. Chapter 4

"Shit! You daft git, look what you've gone an' done."

Horse grinned out at the lads cross-eyed, sleeve black from the pint his arm waving had upset, and a raging Gerald beside him. It didn't matter how many numbers they had in their pockets asking for all sorts (but mostly encores by whoever would be willing, especially if it were Guy); no amount of demand and no rehearsal schedule was ever getting them to pull off whatever that had been, and it wasn't worth the lager to try.

"Right, my round," Lomper sighed as he pulled himself to his feet. There was a clink beside him as Guy stood and stacked the empty glasses, following him up to the bar with a skip in his step. The Donna Summer put on in their honour was too loud, and he ached from the barflies continually chapping him on the back, but his face hurt for smiling. Now that he was standing again he could feel the most recent pint swimming in his veins, and he was pretty sure he was grinning like a tosser, but he didn't care, and anyway, Guy was grinning like a tosser too.

Three pints was too much for his unsure fingers but in time they arranged themselves well enough to leave the bar. Guy was struggling even more and had barely made it a step before he stumbled, lager from all three glasses sloshing across his hands. There wasn't much damage, looking at the levels left, but the shock on his face was so complete that Lomper found himself laughing, sidling up to his side so he could lean across and plant a open mouthed and uncoordinated kiss on him. The buzz cleared to let him know exactly what he'd done, in the pub, in front of half his street, and dread hit him. He tensed just as Guy relaxed with an easy chuckle and pushed a chaste peck back against his lips, and it suddenly wasn't as important.

The sound of spitting cut through it the speckled cheers and someone hissed 'fuckin' poofs'. Before he could pin down who'd spoken their table and several of the other punters had risen and the same voice grumbled something too quiet to hear, cowed into submission. He shook it off and they returned to their careful and damp journey, handing over the spoils to a table that was only half resettled and whooping loudly.

"Good going to ye both," Gaz said, cheersing their sopping glasses with a broad grin while Dave reached out a hand for them to shake so they had to shuffle about.

"Anyone gives you shit, you let us know, all right?"

"Sure thing," he replied, swapping incredulous glances with Guy.

Gerald, still patting at his lap, gaped for a minute before he got himself together."Good luck, lads, and...congratulations," he finished lamely, but with genuine care.

"It's only right that a gift like Guy's be shared wit' world," Horse laughed, clapping Lomper on the back so hard he almost chipped a tooth on his pint.

Guy took a hand in his own, and when he ducked to brush a kiss to his knuckles a weight shifted in his chest and he let himself relax into a toothy grin.

The rest of the night passed in beer, laughter and a knee pressed tight to his own, surrounded by more than he could have imagined a short month before. He thanked fuck for dodgy HT leads.


End file.
